The pursuit of... Fall-ness.

This evening, AnnMarie and I set out to discover Fall. She's been hiding in the most unforgiving way - the scamp! - sending us cool days and browning leaves as a sort of peace offering in lieu of her true self. Well, sorry, Madame Fall, but half-hearted peace offerings don't cut it for this young lady!

So, out we rode, windows rolled down, hair whipping in the wind, singing at the top of our lungs, (and you should hear AnnMarie sing hymns opera style at the top of her lungs. It's quite a treat.)

Winding around all the forgotten backroads of Tippah County, we found Fall. The Really, Truly, Actually Fall, not her demure ghost who has been haunting this particular sliver of the world.

The sun, sinking in a rich burst of color, lit up the newly ploughed-under fields that are standing ready for the hard frosts [we hope] are coming, and we saw crimson, orange, and yellow trees galore, not too much overshadowed by their jealous, drab, sister-trees. Brilliant red sumacs, like painted saloon girls, flaunted their showy colors on every fence row, and the air sweeping in the windows smelled like leaves, hay, rain, and occasionally cow manure.

It was a golden evening, a perfect evening, (even if AnnMarie didn't much appreciate my rendition of U2's "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.")

We came home, windblown but triumphant, knowing that Autumn hasn't deserted us altogether, but is simply playing hard to get.